


The Graphic Art of War

by Little_Annie_Adderall



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batman References, Comic, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Study Group
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Annie_Adderall/pseuds/Little_Annie_Adderall
Summary: Pierce forms a "bizarro" study group, Abed sees the world as a comic book action strip, and Jeff tries to get Annie to forgive him for yet another indiscretion.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Comments: 60
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of school Junior year. Now, don't get me wrong... _Biology 101_ was EVERYTHING a season opener should be. However, things might have played a LITTLE differently had Jeff found out about Annie and Abed's paintball kiss... had Pierce been too proud to admit he wanted to return to the study group... and had an epic battle between superheros ensued in the halls of Greendale Community College. (Naturally.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to Skitzer1985, Allyjayrunaway, Amrywiol, and Raj_Sound for their help and support during my spontaneous bursts of writing… and then subsequent lackthereofs. Isn't it a (precocious little) bitch when life gets in the way of art?

**The First Day of School**

"Uughhh how many times are we going to go over this? I said I didn't mean anything by it!"

Troy stormed into Study Room F, clearly (and justly) exasperated. Abed followed up behind him, clearly (and unjustly) slighted.

"You said we were friends," Abed replied. "And you said friends don't lie to each other. So we can't be friends if we lie to each other. But you lied about this. So did you also lie about being friends?"

"No!" Troy dropped his books on the table and rounded on Abed. "It wasn't a lie. I just... didn't tell you."

"That's a lie by omission."

Jeff – who was already slouched in his seat, clicking away on his phone – looked up. "Hey! Two Broke Girls! Are roommate squabbles going to be a thing now?"

Abed held up a finger and opened his mouth to explain. But before he could get one word out, Jeff turned back to his phone. "Never mind, don't care."

Abed explained anyway.

"We were supposed to go see _Shark Night 3D_ when Troy moved in last weekend. But he already watched it with Pierce."

"That's tragic," Jeff muttered, tone dripping with barely audible sarcasm. His eyes were still glued to his phone.

Troy pulled out his chair a little more violently than necessary and plopped down.

"I. TOLD. YOU." He jabbed a forefinger into the table with each word. "Pierce wanted to do something together before I moved out. I said I was waiting to see it with you, but he threatened me with a troll and... Whatever, man. It's not like you've never kept things from me. You didn't tell me about kissing Annie for like a full week."

Jeff's phone landed with a thump on the table. Troy and Abed stopped arguing and looked up. Jeff was staring at them.

"I'm sorry," he said, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "I must have blacked out. It sounded like you just said that Abed kissed Annie."

"Well, technically Han Solo kissed Princess Leia," Abed shrugged.

"Ehhh, not _technically,_ " Troy said.

Jeff stared pointedly at Abed. "You were role playing Han Solo and Princess Leia...?"

"Sure, during paintball last year," he responded, genuinely unsure how Jeff could forget the most awesome day of their Sophomore year. "You were there, remember? I claimed the Han Solo role before you slipped into it by default."

"You know how Annie always falls for Abed's characters," Troy said.

"I _don't_ know that."

"Yeah, like when he played Don Draper." Troy looked up at the ceiling and chuckled nostalgically. "Pretty sure she would have jumped in bed with him right then if we hadn't all been there."

"Um what," Jeff said blankly. "When...? Where was I?"

"You were getting mad about having to wear gym shorts," Troy said flatly, like that was a legitimate explanation. (It was.)

"Abed, did you talk to Annie about this after?"

"Not really. What is there to talk about?"

"Trust me," Jeff said confidently. "Annie doesn't take kindly to being kissed and then... buried. You know her, she's all romantic. She gets too invested in that kind of stuff."

"You don't have to worry, Jeff," Abed replied simply. "I don't think Annie gets invested in being kissed. She just gets invested in being kissed by you."

Jeff was speechless for a moment. But, you know, just for a moment. "That's not what I..."

"Yes, it is," Abed said, head cocked to the side and eyes aimed down at the table as he considered the situation. "And that's fine. It's pretty clear you're invested in her, too."

Troy did a double take between Abed and Jeff. "It is? Wait, what?"

"But this whole 'getting jealous every time Annie shows interest in someone else' theme is kind of played out by now," Abed continued. "Vaughn, Rich, now Don and Han... If it bothers you that much, you should probably tell her before she actually chooses someone else."

"I'm not jealous!" Jeff sputtered, then closed his eyes and held up one hand to reset. "This conversation took a weird turn. Look, I'm just saying you need to be careful, Abed. Annie's not like you or me or... anyone really. She's... I mean, she's... You just shouldn't play with her like that."

Abed raised one eyebrow and met Jeff's eye. "Neither should you."

Troy looked even more befuddled. "Did I miss a whole story line or something?"

"Hello, traitor," Pierce sauntered in the door of the study room.

Troy rolled his eyes, " _Still_ with this?"

Annie bounced into the room as well. "Hi, Abed." She bashfully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she sat down. "How was your summer?"

Jeff extended an open palm toward Annie and gave Abed a meaningful look.

"Pierce?" Shirley asked, confused, as she and Britta arrived at their seats.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Britta's tone was a little more disgusted than she intended it to be.

"Oh, well that's nice," Pierce said, standing a slight distance from the table. "It's comforting to see nothing's changed – even _after_ I saved the school."

Jeff rolled his eyes. This was the first day of a (hopefully, please, dear God let it be a) Pierce-less year, and he'd be damned if it started off with a guilt trip.

"Pierce, give it a rest. We said we want you again."

"Keep it in your pants, Jeffrey. No, I'm still done with you and this twisted group of outcasts. I'm here representing my new study group."

"Aw," Annie pouted, a little relieved and a lot offended. "You have a new study group already?"

"Yes, some people actually see my value."

"We see your value!" she exclaimed.

Jeff squinted at her, "Well..."

"Do we though?" Troy asked.

"I guess we just expected you to, you know, _come around_ ," Annie said.

"Come around to being constantly rejected and treated like a villain? No thank you," Pierce held up both hands and shook his head. "It's clear this group wouldn't know true friendship if it punched them in the face. Which it has. On multiple occasions. And at this point in my life, that's just not something I need. No, you all had your chance. Now I'm gone, and I'm not coming back."

"Then why did you come back?" Jeff smiled wryly up at Pierce.

"Just dropping off some things I've collected over the years that I no longer need..."

Pierce paused, patting his pockets, eventually pulling out half a pencil. It was worn down low over countless sessions of chewing. He glanced at it quickly and tossed it on the study table.

"...now that we're no longer friends."

Everyone stared at the gnawed-off pencil in disgust.

"Shirley, that was yours," Pierce said, wagging a finger her way. "Thank you very much. You can just tuck that back in your purse."

"Yeah, you can keep it..."

"Great, that seems legit," Jeff said, trying to wrap things up. "Anything else?"

"Yes. The other thing I'm dropping off is an invitation to any of you dummies smart enough to abandon this charade and join me in my much newer, much better, much less crazy study group. And before you all jump up at once, the invitation does not extend to Jeff or Troy. They're dead to me."

"Damn," Troy snapped his fingers. "It sounded so tempting, too."

He quickly turned to Abed and mouthed, " _Not really_."

"I think we're good, Pierce. But... good luck out there," Britta made at least a small effort to sound chummy.

Pierce slowly backed away toward the door. "Alright, your loss. See you losers never."

"I can't believe he's already replaced us..." Annie said once Pierce was out of sight.

Britta flicked the grimy pencil off the table with her pen. Annie dodged out of the way just in time as it flew past her head and rolled under the shelves along the side of the room.

"Maybe it's Leonard and that group of old guys who play poker in the basement," Britta suggested.

"I hope not," Abed replied seriously. "We already had an episode about them. That would just be lazy writing."

" _Ohh_ and they were a _bad_ influence on him," Shirley chimed in. "I'm worried Pierce may really go to the dark side without the benefit of our guiding light."

"I bet it's Vicky," Troy said. "He bribed her with Twinkies."

"Come on, guys, let's not talk about Pierce," Jeff all but begged. "He doesn't have a new study group. And even if he did... _Who cares_? We've parted ways with our closest oldest, craziest, most racist, oldest, elderly, crazy friend. It's a brand-new year and a brand-new us and we're _FINALLY_ gonna be fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pro tip - they're _not_ finally gonna be fine. That's a given, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The study group receives their first assignment of the school year and meets their counterparts in Bizarro World. 
> 
> Pierce and Chang form an alliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking a little artistic license with the cannon timeline here. This is supposed to be the first day of the study group's third year at Greendale. And in the show, we don't meet Annie Kim until the following week. But in _The Graphic Art of War_ , we need Annie and Other Annie's dynamic to already be established, so we are just assuming that Model UN has already happened at some point in the past.

**Still the First Day of School**

"Good morning, visionaries! Welcome... to life's true purpose!"

Chatter ceased as the door to the art classroom burst open. A vivacious man stood framed in the doorway – face angled toward the heavens and one arm raised aloft in a dramatic flourish.

"Professor Whitman?" Jeff murmured.

He hadn't seen Whitman since that _Good Will Hunting_ class that moonlighted as an accounting credit. Honestly, he had kind of assumed the guy had seized the day and spontaneously moved to Casablanca or something.

Jeff briefly wondered what the heck Whitman was doing teaching art. But then again, if there was anyone who would truly appreciate the beauty of art, it would be the guy who cries at the sunrise and orders birthday cake instead of coffee. That was probably credential enough for a school like Greendale.

Whitman strode confidently into the room.

"Congratulations, one and all, on uncovering the shimmering veil between us and the great other... the very essence of God's most glorious gift... the nourishment our souls crave straight from the teat of the sacred mother... the tantalizing, sensualizing, naked body – of art!"

Troy leaned ever-so-slightly toward the desk to his right and held out a palm for an underhanded high five. "You didn't tell me this was a _nude-y_ art class. Give me some."

Looking up, he balked at Shirley casting dagger eyes his way.

"Oh," Troy said awkwardly. "I thought you were Jeff."

Jeff, from one seat back, slowly stuck his hand out. Troy slapped it.

"I live by one motto," Whitman continued. "Does anyone know what that may be?"

" _Carpe diem_?" Jeff joked out loud. He still had some serious PTSD from the crazy hoops he had jumped through in the past to _carpe_ the damn _diem_ for this guy.

"Jeffrey!" Whitman welcomed him excitedly. "A brilliant answer! But no. My motto is this: Life doesn't give us purpose; we give life purpose. So the rules for my class are simple. Be good, be evil, be daring, be cowardly. _But, BY ZEUS_ , _be your true self and define your purpose_! For in this room, we don't create just artwork. Oh no, we create _reality_."

Abed's fervent applause reverberated around the otherwise silent room.

"Inspiring," he said.

Whitman nodded. "Thank you. Now, lest you think this is simply a blow-off art elective... _Jeff_... For your final project of this course, you will design your own comic books."

Abed emitted a high-pitched squeal.

Troy's jaw dropped. "This is even _better_ than nude-y art!"

"We will be working on them all semester. You can use existing characters, or you can develop original characters. But whatever you choose, _make them your own_. Give them life! Give them purpose!"

"Sorry, sorry, don't mind us." Pierce stuck his head in the door and waved an arm toward Whitman in apology. "My friends and I were just enjoying each other's company so much, we lost track of time."

"Life has no greater purpose than to be spent among those we love!" Whitman cheered. "Come on in, friends!"

Pierce fully opened the door and strutted inside. Six aggravatingly familiar faces followed. From the other side of the room, the study group watched in disbelief as the newcomers took their seats.

" _Gary_!" Shirley squeaked, waving eagerly at an old friend among the newcomers. She hadn't seen Gary since he transferred back to his native Finland after their first year at Greendale – to the celebration of everyone but Shirley. She didn't even realize he had come back!

Gary's eyes lit up, and he raised a hand to return the wave. Pierce slapped it back down.

"Oh my god," Abed breathed. "This is so cool."

"Pierce is in our class with a bunch of people we kind of hate," Annie groaned. "How is this cool?"

"Don't you see?" Abed asked wide-eyed. "It's Bizarro Study Group."

"What?" Britta asked. "Like from _Seinfeld_?"

" _Seinfeld_ did it, too. Classic, classic television," Abed lauded. His eyes grew brighter and brighter as he spoke. "But this comes directly from the source. Pierce's new study group is Bizarro World."

"From _Superman_..." Jeff whispered in awe, staring across the room.

 _PEW!_ Peeling his eyes away from the bizarro group for the first time, Abed turned to Jeff and fired a finger gun. "Pierce replaced us... with _us_."

In what felt to him like slow motion, Abed blinked and drew his eyes back over to the Bizarro group. Pierce and the Bizarros were staring smugly at him.

The lights in the classroom dimmed. A humming sound effect filled the space.

Abed looked around enthralled. "Cool… cool cool cool."

The classroom turned the color of fire and lightning flashed. Bizarro Annie leapt up into the air. A sudden wind whipped her dress. Her hair rippled in electrified sheets. Animated laser beams slashed through the negative space around her. And her body took on a pop art sheen, locked in a freeze frame – chest glowing the same bright orange as the laser beam energy effects.

Big bold letters swooped in beside her...

 **ANNIE KIM**  
 _ **and the power of laser-gun jubblies**_.

Annie crossed her arms and rapidly tapped her foot on the floor. Brow furrowed, lips pursed, eyes glaring, she was busy hurling unspoken expletives at "Other Annie." But no one seemed to notice their classroom had turned into a full-on comic book strip. Abed thought it best not to mention anything.

A blinding Bat-Signal appeared on the ceiling and…

Bizarro Abed levitated majestically up from his desk, as well. He suspended in a freeze frame. Black and grey pop art ink blots splashed across the background. A long cloak enveloped his body. A mask obscured his face. Somewhere, a Lamborghini engine revved.

Big bold letters whooshed into view...

**JOEY**   
**aka _Batman... but, like, the Ben Affleck of both bats and men_.**

Abed glanced over at his boring 3D friends. They were all nodding in agreement that Joey – or "White Abed" as the group had dubbed him Freshman year for their uncanny resemblance – was a smart replacement on Pierce's part.

"You guys really don't see this?" Abed asked, pointing over to the still freeze-framed comic strip panels blatantly hanging in the air on the other side of the room.

"See what?"

Two-dimensional Hites lines trailed after Bizarro Troy as he surged toward the heavens, decked out in a full red body suit with a yellow lightning bolt on the chest.

In came those big bold letters...

 **RANDOM BLACK GUY**  
 ** _and the power of supposedly, but unverified, superhuman speed_**.  
 ** _oh, and butt stuff_**.

"Who even IS that dude?"

At Troy's burst of outrage, Abed's eyes snapped away from the artistic universe creating its own reality on the other side of the room. The lights went back to normal and the magic was gone. How disappointing.

"Never seen him before in my life."

"I think he lives in the East Stairwell."

"I may have bought Ayahuasca from him once."

"So that's how Pierce sees me? Just some random black guy no one cares about?" Troy crossed his arms and slumped low in his chair. "Like I'm not even worth seriously replacing."

"Maybe it's that you're too special to replace," Britta petted Troy's shoulder comfortingly.

"Or _maybe_ Pierce knew that replacing you with this... racially insensitive and entirely inappropriate stereotype... would bother you more than anything else," Jeff said. Pierce was, indeed, wearing a particularly satisfied expression as he watched Troy squirm. "He obviously set all this up to aggravate us. Don't let him get to you."

"You may eat those words, Jeff," Abed warned. "Have you noticed you're…"

The lights dimmed again, and the sound effects returned. Bizarro Jeff and Bizarro Britta shot into the-

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Abed," Jeff interrupted with a winning smile.

Bizarro Jeff and Bizarro Britta tumbled unceremoniously back down to their seats. The lights came back up.

"I know what you're about to say. But this is where your theory fails. I'm not…" Jeff jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "…that guy."

His friends all chattered over each other with variations of, "Oh, no, you're definitely that guy. 100%. No question. Hilarious casting. Again, good job, Pierce."

Jeff's charming grin flipped to a furious scowl.

The lights dimmed, the hum hummed, and a trumpet played the _Star-Spangled Banner_. Bizarro Jeff and Bizarro Britta shot – slightly less enthusiastically this time – into the air.

Bizarro Jeff froze suspended with one fist brandished skyward and a Superman cape flapping. Bizarro Britta planted her fists firmly on the hips of her red, white, and blue leotard. Two dimensional stars and stripes burst from the air around them.

The big bold letters appeared...

 **RICH**  
 ** _and the power of persuasion_**.

 **PAGE**  
 ** _and the power of mind control... but, like, not really_**.

"That's ludicrous!" Jeff hissed. "Rich is pathological! He's just an attention-seeking, look-how-cool-I-am, please-everybody-love-me, grade-A narcissist!"

Everyone raised their eyebrows and waited patiently for realization to dawn.

Annie put a gentle, but patronizing, hand on Jeff's knee. "And you're _sure_ you don't see it…?"

Jeff chucked his pen on the floor. "This whole thing is stupid!"

"Oh, well maybe Pierce knew that replacing you with your sworn enemy would bother you more than anything else," Troy mocked, in what was not even close to a good Jeff impression. " _Don't let him get to you_."

Jeff didn't bother glaring at Troy. He was too busy wishing Chiquita MD would slip back to Santa Fe and die already.

"Pierce 1, Jeff 0," Britta drew numbers in the air. "But if Pierce picked the fake lesbian to piss me off, he did a terrible job." She chewed viciously on her hair. "I couldn't care less about that poser."

"Mine's fine, too," Shirley said cheerily.

" _Really_ , Shirley?" Annie challenged. "You're obviously Gary. It doesn't _get_ more offensive than that. And that's coming from someone Pierce replaced with Annie Kim. _Annie Kim_!"

"I'm _honored_ to be Gary."

"Ew, why?" Troy grimaced. "I thought we wrote him off like a year ago. Why is he even here?"

"It's called 'artistic license,'" Abed said. "But yeah that guy kinda sucks. He didn't even get his own superhero intro."

"His own what?"

Professor Whitman cleared his throat and checked his watch for the 17th time. "Whenever you're ready to get back to the lesson would be great."

* * *

Dean Pelton's secretary tripped out of the supply closet, adjusting her ill-fitting skirt and tucking her greying hair back into a tight bun.

"You were _really grateful_ for that tip about Winger's art class," she purred.

Pierce appeared in the doorway behind her. "I'm always grateful for a good tip."

She dangled a key in front of his face. "Let's hope you're just as grateful for _this_." Dropping the key in his hand, she limped off down the hallway.

"Don't be a stranger!" she called seductively over her shoulder.

He whistled as she left. Younger broads were good in the arm candy department, but there was no substitute for older dames in the supply closet.

Refocusing, Pierce sprinted across the deserted hallway to the locked door of Greendale's administrative office. The first day of school was over, and everyone had gone home. But sneaking around added a sense of dramatic urgency that Abed had (unintentionally, of course) taught Pierce to appreciate.

Looking quickly from side to side, he unlocked the door and hurried inside.

"OK, study group," he rubbed his hands together eagerly and started rifling through filing cabinets. "Time to reveal your secrets..."

Out in the hallway, Ben Chang meandered down the dim corridor. He wore a tattered striped robe and slippers, with a pile of overflowing garbage in his arms. Hearing rustling and unintelligible mumbling as he passed the office, he shuffled backward and peered through the cracked-open door.

"Hmmph," Chang chortled. All he could see was Pierce's backside hunched awkwardly and pulling out file after file. He slinked inside for a better look.

"A-ha!" Pierce rejoiced, straightening up.

"Oh Deeean!" Chang sang to nobody. "The study group is stealing your stuuuff!"

Pierce startled and – after a ridiculous number of attempts to catch it – dropped the open file he was holding. "I know nothing!" he yelped, whipping around. Papers scattered everywhere.

Chang cackled and gave a satisfied sigh. "As if I care, man. Steal away."

"I'm not stealing. I'm researching." Collecting himself, Pierce knelt to pick up the scattered papers. "And they're not MY study group. We're recently unaffiliated."

"Wooow," Chang drawled. "They finally kicked you out, huh?"

"They didn't kick me out!" Pierce retorted, struggling to stand back up. "I kicked _them_ out."

"Uh huh."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Pierce asked, reaching up to grab a filing cabinet drawer handle for support. He put his weight on it and the drawer flew out, smacked him in the forehead.

"Oh, I just got a pretty cush new place right around the corner," Chang boasted casually, gesturing out the door and not bothering to help Pierce in the slightest.

"Oh? Where?" Pierce grabbed a flimsy TV dinner stand that served as the conference table and tried to heave himself up. The stand flipped, and pens and sticky notes pummeled him.

"The air vents," Chang bobbed his head as if the situation was entirely normal. "Free heating, free cooling, and all the leftover trash hot dogs you can eat."

He dug into the pile of garbage in his arms and selected a particularly mustardy hot dog remnant. "You want one?"

Pierce crawled over to the main admin desk and finally hoisted himself up off the floor. He shook his head in disgust, "You're a sad, strange little man."

Chang shrugged and took a big bite. "So what are _you_ doing here?"

"Don't worry about it." Pierce brushed off his shirt and looked purposelessly around the office.

"Hey, I know that look," Chang pointed at Pierce. "Yeah, that's the look my nephew gave me when I accidentally on purpose ate his ham! You're out for revenge!"

"He got mad about that?" Pierce asked. "Such an innocent mistake. Could have happened to anyone."

"Well, it didn't _used_ to be ham. It was a living miniature pig. But it was just strutting around the kitchen! What was I _supposed_ to do?"

"Sounds like the pig was asking for it."

Chang missed the sarcasm. "Right? Had something to do with them being Jewish, and it was a pet. I don't know. I didn't really pay attention."

Pierce turned back to the file he had discovered when Chang walked in. "Anyway, if you must know, I'm not out for revenge. I'm just looking for their class schedules."

"Why?"

"So I can _torture them_ until they learn to be better friends."

"That tracks. And how ex-chang-ly do you plan to do this?"

Pierce considered Chang for a moment. He wasn't sure if he could trust the mysterious, inscrutable man. But he was too proud of his brilliant scheme not to share.

"Well," Pierce began excitedly. "I formed a new study group with all people they can't stand. I've got Asian Annie..."

"Who?"

"The sneaky, ruthless one."

"Ah, but of course."

"I've got White Abed, that Rich doctor that always gives Jeff a hard on, Shirley's annoying friend Gary, that girl Page that Britta gay kissed, and some random black guy I ran into under the bleachers..."

"I'm not following any of this, but it sounds progressive. Go on."

"Now, I just need to find out the study group's class schedule so I can orchestrate run-ins with my _new_ study group. They'll get mad at each other. I'll sweep in and save the day. Everyone learns to respect good old Pierce, and I'm back baby!"

"Mhmm, mhmm, totally," Chang stroked his chin. A few dirty hot dog wrappers fell to the floor as a result. "Yeah, you can't pull that off."

"I beg your pardon," Pierce stammered.

"Look at you. You're an amateur."

"I concealed a listening device in the eraser of a pencil and planted it in the study room so I can hear everything they're saying and use it against them."

Chang actually looked impressed. "Well, well, well, Washington comma Denzel. I'll admit it. I may have underestimated you, old man." Then after considering for another beat. "I'm in."

Pierce chuckled. "Chang, I was a cutthroat CEO at the height of his power when men were men and Asians on TV were still played by white actors. I think I know how to manipulate without input from a vent dweller."

"Oh yeah? So you think you can be everywhere at once? Watching, listening, ready to _chang down terror at_ _any moment_?

Pierce shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not _trying_ to chang down terror."

"Cut me in. Let me help you crush them. I need a win, man. I'm living in the vents."

"I thought it was pretty cush?"

"It's still a vent! Give. Me. Control. And I'll have them _crawling_ back to you _begging_ for mercy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Annie and her adorable Halloween costumes. Annie and her frustrating, but admirable, principles. Annie and her conspiracy theories. Annie and her cleverness. Annie and her ingenuity. Annie and her fiery passion. Annie and her eyes, her hands, her… Well, shit._
> 
> **Chapter Summary** : Pierce and Chang's meddling sends Annie and Jeff into a tailspin. Rich and Jeff come to blows in Bizzaro World. And Jeff learns to accept the one thing (OK, woman) that brings him actual happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Settle in... This is a long one.

**The Second Day of School**

"So tell me again why Troy isn't taking this with you?" Annie asked as she and Abed left their "Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse: Disasters, Catastrophes, and Human Behavior" class.

Abed shrugged. "He said it gave him the heebie jeebies. Then he walked off singing 'Mamma Mia' by ABBA."

They headed toward the library to meet the rest of the study group.

"I am a little disappointed in the class," Abed admitted. Annie abruptly stopped walking, but he didn't notice. "It feels a bit redundant somehow..."

" _Abed_!" she hissed. He turned around and saw her hiding behind a water fountain, peeking through an open classroom door. " _Come here_!"

He scampered over and crouched down beside her. " _What are we looking at_?"

She pointed through the doorway.

Annie Kim and White Abed were alone in the otherwise empty classroom. They had pushed two desks to face each other and were each in a seat, holding hands and giggling. White Abed whispered something in Annie Kim's ear. She blushed, kicking him playfully under the desks. They inched even closer together. And then, she leaned in for a lingering kiss.

"Interesting," Abed said. "That seems really out of character."

He looked over at Annie. She had stars in her eyes.

* * *

By the time Annie and Abed entered the study room a few minutes later, Jeff, Britta, Troy, and Shirley were already seated and chattering around the table.

"Another brownie, anyone?" Shirley cooed.

"Hit me!" Troy immediately stuck his plate out.

"These brownies are _so good_ , Shirley," Britta accidentally spit some crumbs on the table as she spoke.

"I've got to say," Jeff felt surprisingly zen and supportive this morning. "This was actually worth coming to school for today."

Troy licked his fingers. "What did you put in here?"

"I bet it's a dash of _love_ ," Jeff teased, taking another bite.

Shirley beamed.

"We are _so_ cute together, Abed!" Annie surged into the room like a giddy hurricane.

She might hate Annie Kim with every fiber of her being... but she still appreciated an adorable dash of love when she saw one. And for some reason that she couldn't quite identify, the idea of Bizarro Annie and Bizarro Abed getting it on in an abandoned community college classroom got her a little heated.

Jeff choked.

"Ooo brownies!" Abed said.

As Abed grabbed a brownie and took his seat, Jeff propped his biology textbook up on the table and ducked behind it, hiding from Annie.

" _Abed!_ " Jeff hissed across the table. " _Abed_! _"_

Abed didn't hear him.

" _Psst... Abed!_ "

Britta poked Abed in the ribs with her elbow. She jerked a finger toward Jeff and continued to admire her brownie. Abed promptly propped his book up and ducked behind it as well.

" _Why didn't you talk to her?_ " Jeff mouthed.

Abed mouthed something unintelligible back.

" _What?_ " Jeff mouthed.

Abed rapidly moved his lips again.

" _Are you speaking English?_ " Jeff whispered out loud.

" _Oh, are we actually saying real things?_ " Abed asked, slightly more audibly and legitimately confused.

Jeff rolled his eyes. In more of a stage whisper this time, he repeated, " _Why didn't you talk to her?_ "

"Umm... What are you guys doing?"

They both poked their eyes up above their textbooks. Annie was studying them suspiciously.

"Jeff asked why..."

"...whaaaat Shirley's secret ingredient could be in these brownies!" Jeff quickly interrupted. "Shirley, again, so good."

Abed crinkled his brow and held out a questioning finger. "But you said..."

"No, I didn't..." Jeff huffed out a cacophony of awkward fake laughs. "...Abed... No, I didn't."

He ducked quickly behind his textbook again and gave Abed what he hoped was an obvious " _leave me the hell out of this_ " look.

Abed looked disoriented.

Annie looked skeptical.

"Jeff..." she said slowly. "You're being really weird..."

"Oh, look at that!" Jeff pointed to his phone. "Kim Kardashian did something stupid again that I'll need to make a joke about later. Excuse me." He sank deep into his chair and stuck his phone in front of his face.

" _Buenos dias_ , children." Chang strutted into the study room. Jeff had never been so relieved for a chang of subject – a _change_... a _change_ of subject. Ugh.

Chang had swapped his ratty robe and slippers for a brand-new suit, briefcase, and (probably fake) glasses.

"Ooo brownies!" His eyes lit up, and he reached for the serving plate. Shirley swatted his hand away with the spatula.

"Owwww!"

"Why are you dressed like an optimistic fax operator?" Troy asked.

"Aw thank youuu." Chang batted Troy's shoulder, genuinely touched by what he took as a compliment. "It's nothing _that_ glamorous. I'm Greendale's new student-faculty liaison manager!"

"What's a student-faculty liaison manager?" Britta asked.

"A little of this, a little of that. Mostly fostering unity and trust between the students and the teachers, yadda yadda yadda."

This was typically where Jeff would say something sarcastic. But he didn't.

As a unit, the group turned to him expectantly. He sensed five pairs of eyes on him and peeked around the side of his cellphone. Clearly, he was supposed to contribute something here. But he'd been too busy wondering what Annie meant about her and Abed being cute together that he hadn't heard a word of the conversation.

"You're all correct in your own ways," he said. That didn't appear to be the right response. "Except Britta." Still wrong.

He hid behind his phone again.

The group turned back to Chang.

" _Anywho_ ," Chang started up again. "I know you have a seat open this year – good riddance, right – and I thought, hey! What better way to foster unity than to link up with _you guys_! See what your plans are... where you might be hanging out... what your weaknesses – err, what the school's weaknesses may be... You know, typical student-faculty liaison manager stuff."

They turned to Jeff again. Nothing.

Sure, there was occasionally a time and a place for subverting the group's proven dialogue formula. But as far as Abed was concerned, this was _not_ one of them. Some sarcasm needed to fill the void ASAP.

He crossed his arms, leaned casually back in his chair, and painted a sardonic smile on his face. "Well I, for one, trust that both the students and the teachers are unified in their contempt for you," Abed mocked.

Annie and Troy snorted.

"How did you get tagged for this job, anyway?" he continued smugly. "Charles Ponzi wasn't available?"

"Oh, that's good!" Shirley tittered.

Chang tugged apprehensively on his jacket.

"I'm just kidding, Chang," Abed laughed. "Seriously, congratulations on the new gig. You look good."

"Thank you," he said cautiously. "I strive to be fashionable."

"Well, you've succeeded. If your fashion statement is, 'I missed a spot shaving.'"

 _Ba dum tshh_. Britta mimed a rimshot, and no one even bothered to try to hold in their laugher this time.

> _Chang heard a shrill tone in his ear and turned quickly away from the table, tapping a hidden earpiece._
> 
> _"Stop dawdling," Pierce's voice crackled. "Drop the first bomb, already. Deploy! Deploy!"_
> 
> _"Okayyy," Chang rasped. He turned_ _surreptitiously back to the group._

"You know what, Abed?" Chang bellowed over the din. "You've turned into a bit of an ass since hooking up with Annie." He shot a pointed glance over to Jeff.

All frivolity immediately ceased. Shirley shrieked, and Britta slammed her palms on the table in shock: "WHAT!""

Annie smiled demurely at the floor and tucked her chin into her shoulder.

Jeff finally looked up from his phone. "Maybe 'hooked up' is a little extreme..."

> _"Well?" Pierce crackled._
> 
> _Chang turned away from the group again and tapped his earpiece. "He already knew."_
> 
> _"Damn."_

"Abed and Annie kissed during paintball last year," Troy explained.

" _Lord_ , please tell me it was just kissing and that it was _NOT on this table_."

"Shirley!" Annie blushed at the implication. "Yes, it was just kissing."

"Then _yay!!_ " Shirley clapped excitedly.

"Technically, it was Han Solo and Princess Leia. Why does everyone keep forgetting that?" Abed had dropped the act and was back to his normal speech patterns.

"Again, buddy, not _technically_ ," Troy reminded him.

"I heard it was much more than ' _just kissing_ ,'" Chang leaned across the table toward Annie, jabbing a finger at every group member as he spoke. "I heard it was _quite_ the make-out session. Right here in the library."

"Oh, goodieeeee!" Shirley squealed.

"OK, control yourself, Gladys Kravitz. Let's just give them some space..." Britta then turned to Abed and Annie. " _How did this happen_? Why didn't you tell us? This is _huge_! Right?"

"Not really," Abed shrugged.

Jeff looked sharply at him. Abed stared back blankly for a moment, and then perked up, giving Jeff a quick conspiratorial nod. He pivoted to face Annie.

"Annie, are you in love with me?"

Shirley clapped even harder. "Ooohhh! This is _nice_!"

Annie's chest flushed. "Excuse me?"

"It's OK if you are," Abed said. "I have that effect on people. Women think I care about them because I maintain eye contact."

Shirley and Britta spoke over each other: "I can see that, mhmm. It's the little things."

"Confirmed," Troy nodded.

"Abed," Annie scolded, quite flustered. "This is not an appropriate line of questioning."

"While prying into the personal lives of American citizens is a travesty and a total abandonment of the very principles this nation was founded on, I'll allow it." Britta gestured for Abed to continue.

"Say yes!" Shirley was still way too thrilled about this conversation. "You two would be so _cute_ and _age appropriate_ together."

Jeff scowled.

> _"Hold on..." Chang whispered into his earpiece._

"Oh, OK. I'm sorry," Abed apologized to Annie. "Jeff thought since you're so emotional and easily influenced, I might have messed you up, so..."

Annie spun her head around to Jeff. "Jeff thought what now?"

> _"Yep, we're good. It's still working."_

"Thanks, Abed," Jeff grimaced. He turned to Annie. "That's not exactly what I said. I said you should talk..."

"There's nothing to talk about!" she blustered.

Abed tapped the table. "That's what _I_ said."

Britta narrowed her eyes. "I don't know... This just seems like another 'Jeff getting jealous over something stupid' moment..."

"I'm not jealous!" He paused, closed his eyes, and reset. "This isn't about me. This..."

"...is none of _your_ business!" Annie was furious.

"You know what, Annie?" Jeff was honestly starting to get rather furious, too. He had just wanted Abed to make sure Annie was OK. And now he was somehow the bad guy? Shouldn't he be the _good_ guy in this scenario?

"If it was Shirley and Troy who made out, I'm _pretty sure_ you'd be _begging_ me to make it my business." He widened his eyes, pouted his lips, and did a not-altogether-horrible impression of Annie... " _Jeeeeff, dooo something!_ "

Annie gave an affronted little gasp.

"So you're just gonna go ahead and stick the two black people together for this clearly negative example," Shirley grumbled. "I see."

"So it's _wrong_ that I kissed Abed?" Annie pressed. "Or you're worried about my _fragile emotional state_? Which is it?"

"Uhhh…"

Annie jumped up so fast, her chair crashed onto the floor.

"Neither?"

She grabbed her backpack.

"Annie, sit down, I was just trying to protect you-"

"I don't need your protection!" She flew out of the room in a blur.

"Annie!"

But she was gone. Jeff sighed heavily. And he had been feeling so peaceful a few minutes ago. What a perfectly Greendale day.

He got up and followed her out the door.

* * *

Hidden in a stack of books, Pierce watched Annie race out of the library and Jeff trudge after her. Turning off his earpiece, he hurried out the side door.

* * *

Annie was already storming down the sidewalk by the time Jeff caught up to her.

"I don't know why you're mad. I just wanted to make sure Abed didn't confuse you..."

"Confuse me? What am I, five?" She spun around, eyes flashing. "I'm so _sick_ of you acting like you have the right to interfere in my life and… and… and _judge_ me."

"I'm not judging you."

"Just because I HAVE a heart doesn't mean I let ANYONE into it."

"No, but _sometimes_ you _may_ over romanticize things."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of!" Annie snapped.

"I never said it was."

She paced the sidewalk. Jeff gave her some space.

"Not that it's _any_ of your concern because you've made it _perfectly_ clear where we stand. But what if I _did_ have feelings for Abed, huh? And what if he had feelings for me?"

She stopped pacing and stared Jeff down. "Are you saying you'd actually grow a pair and do something about it?"

Jeff couldn't breathe very well. These conversations never seemed to go as planned. (And when did Annie start saying things like "grow a pair"?)

"I…"

"Whoa, whoa, what's going on here?" Pierce asked concerned, striding up as if he had just stumbled upon the scene completely by accident.

"Nothing," Jeff mumbled.

"It didn't sound like nothing."

"Oh, yeah, no, nothing out of the ordinary," Annie fumed. "Just Jeff overstepping his bounds and infantilizing me – _again_."

Jeff looked more than a bit disturbed by that term.

"Why must you always treat Annie like a child, Jeff?" Pierce demanded, aghast. "She's a mature, responsible, grown woman who's more than capable of taking care of herself."

" _Thank you_ , Pierce!"

"No need to thank me. It's true. Don't let people like _that_..." he gestured flippantly at Jeff, "...ever make you feel less than you're worth."

Annie raised her chin and threw her shoulders back. "You are _absolutely_ right."

"What are you doing here, Pierce?" Jeff growled.

"Apparently, I'm preventing you from doing more damage to this group than you already have. Let's go, Annie. He's not worth it."

Without so much as a backward glance, Pierce and Annie walked away.

"You think you're so sly?" Jeff called after them. "I see what you're doing, Pierce! You're trying to look better than me! Well it won't work!"

He turned back toward the library to see the rest of the group standing in the doorway shaking their heads.

"Dammit."

* * *

It was day 2 of fall semester, and Greendale was already reminding him why he couldn't wait to get out of this toilet.

Mercifully, everyone seemed to have gotten over this morning's drama. Except Annie. Jeff hadn't seen her since she stormed away. And now in art class, she was purposely ignoring him... working with Abed on today's partner project of drawing perfectly imperfect parallel lines. (Whatever that meant.)

"Your lines are too perfect," Jeff berated Britta, glancing down at their own partner project. "How is drawing parallel lines the one thing you're actually good at?"

"Um, butt hurt much?" She shot back. "Here, you do it then. I'm sure you suck enough to pull it off."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Britta blew some hair out of her eyes and stooped back over the sketchpad. Jeff glanced again at Annie bending unnecessarily low across Abed's desk. (She _did_ know buttons existed on that cardigan, right? Like, they aren't just there for decoration.)

"Ahh," he doubled over, clutching his stomach. "What _is_ that?"

Britta reflexively glanced up again. Noting the hand on his stomach and the eyes still lingering on Annie and Abed, she asked, "Is it like a pit of molten hot magma vaporizing your intestines?"

" _Yes!_ "

"Yeah, that would be shame." 

He groaned. "Shame?"

"You know, for once again acting like Annie's father when you're well aware that she hates it and that everyone else just thinks it's super cringy."

Jeff groaned.

Britta grunted derisively. "How are you so bad at feelings, you man-child?"

A chorus of "oooo"s resounded from across the room. Jeff looked up to see a flock of fawning girls surround Rich's desk.

"Ugh, I _hate_ that guy," he muttered. Rich's flawless smile and cheek dimples fueled Jeff's quickly souring mood. He sensed that all-too-familiar wave of resentment building from deep within and – as usual – welcomed it. He was much more comfortable with unadulterated loathing than whatever fresh hell this writhing pit in his stomach was.

"Jeff..." Britta warned. "Don't spiral..."

"I won't."

She didn't seem to believe him.

"Trust me, Britta," he reassured her while still staring Rich down. "I'm no longer obsessed with exposing this guy for the fraud that he obviously is. So maybe Rich is a complete phony. Maybe not. Maybe he uses a mask of wide-eyed innocence and perfection to hide a cloying secret that should have him locked up in prison for the rest of his life... But, you know, maybe not. Who's to say? I, for one, don't give it a second thought anymore."

"Mm-hmm..."

After a pause, he added, "I'm just going to see what all the fuss is about." And ignoring Britta's protestations, Jeff slid out of his desk and sidled across the room.

As he approached, the flock of girls parted. Spread out on Rich's desk, like everyone else, was a sketchpad. But, unlike everyone else, his contained fewer uneven train tracks and more exquisite replication of Michelangelo's "The Creation of Adam" – just with Superman instead of Adam, to stick with the class's comic book theme. Creative. Eye roll.

"Hey, buddy," Rich greeted Jeff far too enthusiastically to be genuine. "How's it going?"

"Wow, you took the 'perfectly imperfect parallel lines' thing to an extreme."

Rich chuckled and held both arms up in a dramatic shrug. "What can I say, guy? When the muse takes over – look out! Right?"

"Right," Jeff smirked. "Well, that muse is certainly running you ragged. What's everything you do again? Medical doctor, environmental warrior... pottery, woodworking, art, _and_ you're a full-time student during the workday? You must be exhausted!"

"Aw well what is life if you don't dive into it head-first? Imbue it with meaning and passion! Isn't that right, professor?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" Whitman gave a thumbs up. "Being the best you can be is possible for anybody if you put your mind to it!"

Jeff smirked at Rich. "You're a true renaissance man."

A broad smile was still plastered on Rich's face, but Jeff detected a flash of strange darkness behind his eyes.

* * *

"Greetdeans and salutations, fellow Human Beings!" Dean Craig Pelton's voice rang across the football field.

Torches were set up at intervals throughout the turf, warding off the evening darkness and that Colorado autumn chill. A row of prepared fireworks stretched across where a better school would have actually had goal posts. A giant heap of kindling stood tall on the 50-yard line.

The dean pranced on a makeshift podium beside the heap of kindling. He was – to the surprise of no one but the Freshman – fully decked out in a sexy Gandalf costume. The sheer robe may have stopped mid-thigh and included a rather plunging neckline, but the floppy wizard's hat and phallic-shaped staff really did complete the ensemble.

"We hope you're fired up for another flametastic year here at Greendale!" The dean threw his hands up in the air as he cheered... and waited for a moment. Then tried again.

"We hope you're FIRED up for another FLAMETASTIC year here at Greendale!" Still nothing.

He turned aggressively to the crew that was desperately trying to light the bonfire kindling. " _Hello_! We rehearsed this! Why don't you just... move that over... _What am I even paying you for??_

"You're not," one of them grumbled.

The dean turned back to the crowd and put on a placating expression. "Technical deanficulties, my apologies. They'll figure it out. Aaanyway, I'm so glad to see so many new students here tonight! Such bright, fresh faces. So full of hope and high expectations. Aww, that's cute, just wait..."

As the dean wasted time, Jeff noticed Pierce whispering to Annie Kim and White Abed some distance away. They waved as he walked off, and then immediately got back to canoodling under a large blanket.

Jeff turned to his Annie, who was staring longingly at the couple as well – hands clasped beneath her chin.

A sudden cheer went up from the crowd, and hot flames finally licked the sky. The dean began waving his staff about, crying, "I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Greendale!"

Peeling her attention away from the couple under the blanket, Annie glanced over at Jeff. Her eyes were soft and moonstruck. His chest burned. It could have been the heat of the bonfire or the torches. It could have been… happiness? Whatever it was, it broke the spell. Annie tensed, scowled, and twirled away with a flourish.

Aaaaaand there was that writhing pit in his stomach again.

Jeff had had enough of this day. He backed away from the now-distracted study group and headed back toward campus. About to break free of the throng of students and make a beeline for the parking lot, he noticed Pierce and Rich speaking animatedly by the side of the Fine Arts building. After a few seconds, they parted ways, and Rich sprinted inside.

Interesting.

Britta's voice echoed in Jeff's ears...

_Jeff... Don't spiral..._

Surely, one peek inside wasn't spiraling.

He followed Rich in. The building was abandoned and eerily quiet. One light flicked on halfway down the corridor, emanating out of their classroom and casting long shadows upon the hallway walls.

Jeff peered through the glass pane on the art room door. Three voices lilted out of the room – a man's, a woman's, and maybe a young boy's. But Rich was alone, drawing frantically.

"Creepy."

Jeff jumped out of his skin. "What the f-! Abed! What are you doing here?"

"I had a feeling this could be even more epic than Dean Pelton reenacting The Bridge of Khazad-Dum. Though it was a tough call after he pulled out an actual whip. Don't disappoint me."

Jeff held one finger up to his lips and slowly shoved the door open a crack. Three distinct voices drifted through the silence...

_"Oh, Uncle Rich, you made this for me??"_

_"I sure did, little man!"_

Jeff and Abed shook their heads at each other. What. Was. Happening.

_"Superman is his favorite superhero. Not this drivel. What even is this?"_

_"It_ is _Superman, mom. I just drew him to look a little more like me..."_

_"I love it!! Super Richie!"_

Abed looked concerned at Rich's multi-character external dialogue. Jeff looked freaking thrilled.

_"You'll never be a superhero, Richard. You couldn't save your brother. You didn't save me. You'll never save yourself."_

"A-HAH!!" Jeff couldn't resist any longer. He burst into the room, arm pointed straight out accusingly.

Rich leapt up from his chair.

"You're CRAZY!" Jeff bellowed.

Rich backed away from his triumphant advance. Both hands were up in surrender, but that disarming smile was, as always, plastered on his face.

"Well, I guess you finally caught me."

"YES! I _knew_ it!" Jeff allowed himself a little happy dance. "I _knew_ there was something off about you! Some dark secret that you cloak as good humor and reverence, getting off on the dopamine surge that comes from hoodwinking everyone around you."

Abed stepped lightly through the doorway, pressing against the wall so as not to distract from the main event.

Jeff was so excited, he actually jumped, pumping a fist in the air.

In what felt to him like slow motion, Abed blinked and...

Jeff landed on one knee, left hand touching the ground in front of him, head bent low. A red cloak billowed behind him. The lights dimmed. The strings section of an invisible orchestra began to play. A puff of chalk dust plumed up from the floor around his feet.

Abed nodded approvingly. Yep, he made the right choice.

Jeff rose from the floor. He was now wearing red and blue spandex with a yellow belt and a bold "W" imprinted on his chest. His chin was extra chiseled, and his eyes were extra bright blue. He stood tall in the middle of the room and stared the villain down.

"Well, you're done," Jeff finished his thought in a now deep, booming tone. "I'm here to reveal who you truly are so you never deceive anyone again."

Eight feet away, Rich's trademark smile turned sinister. He wore a similar unitard and cloak, but his were all black. Malice dripped from every word. "A true defender never raises arms against an innocent, no matter how they threaten you."

"Lucky for me, you're not an innocent."

Faster than a speeding bullet and more powerful than a locomotive, Jeff shot headlong into Rich's torso. Together, they flew across the room, crashing into the opposite wall.

In two distinct leaps, Rich bounded up and out of Jeff's grasp. A casual flick of his wrist sent the teacher's heavy desk surging toward Jeff. It pinned him to the wall. With a glare and a shout, Jeff flung the piece of furniture away from him. It smashed into the ceiling and then collapsed to the floor, nothing more than a pile of rubble directly between the two men.

"You may think I'm an evil villain, Jeff. But you're worse than me."

"How do you figure?" Jeff asked, regaining his footing.

"Each of us carries a stranger inside of us, a part that is alien to our essential self. Only by confronting that stranger can we remove the stain of sin that clouds us all, atone, and strengthen that essential self."

The flames from the bonfire out back tinged the windows orange.

"Who is your stranger, Rich? What is your sin?"

Rich cocked his head to the right, considering his opponent.

Jeff tried again. "Were those voices your strangers?"

"Those voices are my mother, my brother, my nephew. The stranger is who took them from me."

"So you haven't confronted your stranger at all. You just cloak yourself in the semblance of reality, putting on a happy face to hide your pain but never truly..."

Rich let out a barking laugh. "Sound familiar?"

"What?"

"You can be such a simpleton, Jeff. Really. I _have_ confronted my stranger. Over and over and over in the darkness and the loneliness as I mended my soul and eventually, I realized that my stranger _is_ my essential self. I am he, and he is me, and we are one."

The air in the classroom crackled with electricity. The string section of the orchestra reaching a crescendo, one lone symbol tinging a menacing metronome.

"You're clinically insane," Jeff shook his head in amazement.

"An interesting diagnosis when, again, you're worse than me."

"And again, how do you figure?"

Rich and Jeff circled each other slowly along the edges of the room. Abed pressed further back against his wall.

"You see yourself as the defender - the protector of innocence," Rich began. "But _that_ is your cloak. You seek power through denial and pride, through wit and humor, through charm. With this power, you hope to keep your stranger at bay. But until you confront him, he will continue to reveal himself through jealousy, through rage, through suspicion, through..."

Jeff slow clapped.

"Wow, what a breakthrough, doc! 'I'm not perfect.' That's something I've come to accept the past couple years. I confronted that, and I know my stranger."

Rich just smiled. " _Do_ you?"

Jeff ignored the question. "You, however, are nothing more than a conman – an everyday phony desperate to prove himself to the world. You've _embraced_ your stranger. You've let him consume you. How is that atoning and removing the stain of sin?"

"A stain is only a stain if it's unwanted."

Jeff paused. That was a good line.

Rich advanced threateningly, closing the gap between them. Around the room, small objects began to levitate. A pen here, a set of paints there, a pair of scissors over there.

"Let's look at your stains…" he began. The pen flew across the room. Jeff ducked.

"…the sins of a lying, womanizing defense attorney…" Jeff narrowly dodged a flying pack of chalk.

"…out for a good time…"

There went the paints.

"…and a fast car…"

There went the scissors.

"…and a cozy spot by the hellfire."

There went an entire art cart.

"That's not who I am anymore," Jeff replied, punching the art cart mid-flight and sending it crashing into the supply closet… an avalanche of supplies cascading to the floor. "I've left that person behind. Now I fight for good to win every day."

Rich inched around his opponent in a tight circle. "Look within yourself." He breathed goosebumps onto Jeff's neck. "What do you see?"

Storm clouds began to build in the room. A cold wind thrashed.

"Do you see goodness?"

Jeff's face twitched.

"Do you see happiness? Contentment?"

His scowl deepened.

"...Love?"

His fists clenched. "Anger," Jeff growled.

"No," Rich's voice was everywhere now. "Look closer."

"Regret."

"Go deeper."

"Self-loathing."

"Deeper."

"Fear!"

Rich appeared in front of Jeff's face again. "Fear!"

The fireworks show was starting outside. Boxes of paper fell from the highest shelves with the force of the explosions. The percussion section of the orchestra rang out, drums beating madly. And the storm clouds began to spin.

Abed unsteadily grabbed the wall. He could barely see the superheroes behind the tornado that was taking over.

"Fear of what?" Rich pressed, taking another turn around the room. "Abandonment, certainly. Rejection. Failure. But it's more than that isn't it?"

"Stop it."

"You're not just afraid, Jeff. We're all afraid. What else do you see? Who is your stranger!"

"Pain. Grief."

As Jeff whispered the truth, the storm ceased to rage. The music silenced. The clouds plummeted to the ground, transforming into a dust that billowed around the desks. The costumes disappeared. The only sounds were the echoes of distant chanting and frivolity on the football field.

"Ahh... And what, my friend, do you grieve."

Abed had never seen Jeff look so dejected.

"My mother's joy."

Jeff thought of the carefree days, before his father left, before the world got cynical... when she _believed_ in goodness and shared it with him.

"My youth."

He thought of the boyhood he never had – early years spent as his mother's friend and support rather than as her son. He thought of the decade of young adulthood he'd wasted in hollow pursuits, devoid of meaning – just coasting along on the shallow river toward inevitable emptiness and despair.

"The ability to love."

He thought of Annie and why – beyond all logic and reason, despite all the rejection and lying and disappointment – she hadn't completely given up on him yet.

Abed blinked. The lights came up. The desks and supplies and shelves were all in their place. Rich and Jeff were still standing eight feet apart.

"Each of us carries a stranger inside of us," Rich repeated. "Each of us must confront this stranger as we examine ourselves. Some can conquer it. Some, like you and me, embrace it."

The look of defeat on Jeff's face waned, and he felt the familiar anger bubbling again. Get back, stranger! He set his jaw.

"You had me going for a minute there, Rich. I'll admit it. But you don't know me."

"Oh, I know you. The stranger is part of us, Jeff. It's how we survive. Without that darkness, without our cloak to mask that darkness, what are we?"

Jeff clenched his fists. _Easy now_ …

But Rich continued. "Answer: We're nothing. Without it, they'll see through your charm and wit and hair product to the rotten core. And they'll realize you're a fraud, too. A worthless, bumbling mess. And they'll leave you, just like everyone else has."

Jeff smacked Rich's perfect "Creation of Superman" sketch off his desk. "Speak for yourself," he rumbled. Then rocking back on his heels, he turned and stormed out of the room.

There it was again. That blinding rage. The stranger seeping out. Ugh, what absolute _nonsense_! There was no stranger. There was no darkness. There was just a manipulative conartist trying to worm his way into Jeff's head. And it was working.

"Watch it!" Jeff snarled, eyes refocusing on his surroundings.

Pierce stumbled as he and Jeff slammed shoulders in the hallway. "Watch yourself!" he retorted.

Great. Why was Pierce around more now that he _wasn't_ in the group than he was before?

"You must learn to control that temper, Jeffrey," Pierce said, rubbing his shoulder.

"I'm really not in the mood for a lesson on self-temperance from a man who fakes heart attacks to cut the line at Arby's." Jeff resumed his stomp down the hallway.

"Holding onto that anger feels like it gives you great power," Pierce commented, just loud enough for Jeff to still hear him. "But it will only lead to loneliness and sorrow."

Jeff whirled around again. "Why the hell is everyone being so philosophical today? Do you have a speech about confronting my inner stranger and strengthening my essential self, too?"

Pierce waved his hand dismissively. "I don't know anything about that. But I do know that you need to find some happiness."

He moved mere feet away from Jeff. "You keep waiting for the dust to settle on the life you lost and the internal battles you wage. And then you realize, _this is it_. The dust is your life going on. Why not actually live it?"

Jeff opened his mouth to interject but he, for once, couldn't think of anything to say.

Pierce continued. "If happy comes along – that weird, unbearable delight that's actual _happiness_ – you have to grab it while you can."

Jeff was shocked by the truth of Pierce's words. Maybe Rich was right after all. Jeff knew he let whatever it was – a "stranger" or "darkness" or "grief" or "pain" – take over too often.

It was always a part of him. Bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to rear its ugly head at the slightest provocation. And to be fine – to _pretend_ to be fine – he hid behind a cloak of lies.

The cloak worked, there's no denying that. It helped him succeed and appear happy. But was it really success if it left you empty? Yearning? Was it really happiness if it meant you could never feel… anything… for fear that the cloak would unravel and the stranger would consume you forever?

No. And hiding behind the cloak made him no better than... God dammit. Made him no better than Rich.

Pierce was studying Jeff closely. "You deserve happiness, too, Jeffrey. Go find it."

Jeff did a double take at the image that immediately popped into his mind. It wasn't Scotch. It wasn't law. It wasn't even Keristina, his favorite almond facial scrub.

It was Annie's face.

The only thing that gave him weird, unbearable delight was… Annie. The only time he wasn't _actively_ trying to keep the stranger or darkness or grief or pain at bay was… with Annie.

Annie and her adorable Halloween costumes. Annie and her frustrating, but admirable, principles. Annie and her conspiracy theories. Annie and her cleverness. Annie and her ingenuity. Annie and her fiery passion. Annie and her eyes, her hands, her…

His only actual happiness was… the Annie of it all.

Well, shit.

Jeff refocused on Pierce. "You're right," he admitted, feeling suddenly unburdened and completely crushed all at the same time. "Instead of stewing, I need to just find happiness and… get it to forgive me for always being such an ass."

"Um, sure."

Jeff spontaneously wrapped the older man in a tight hug. Pierce's eyes bulged out a little, but he returned the embrace.

"Thank you, Pierce."

"Oh," Pierce replied a little awkwardly, not entirely expecting such a genuine reaction. "Just an observation."

"No, really. Thank you. For the observation and also for not making a gay joke about that hug."

Pierce smiled. "Nothing gay about it, unless you mean happy. In which case, that was _really_ gay."

Jeff chuckled openly. "I've got to go do something... I'll see you around."

Rich joined Pierce as Jeff rush off down the hallway. They gave each other a fist bump. That couldn't have possibly gone better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierce debriefs with his new study group. Jeff - spurred on by the previous night's revelation - tries and, obviously, fails to apologize to Annie. Britta and Page come to blows in Bizarro World.

** The Third Day of School **

Pierce sauntered into the spare room that his _old_ study group used to use as a club house of sorts their first year at Greendale. It was filled with dusty couches, battered filing cabinets, and forgotten band equipment.

Today, it was also filled with mindless chatter from his new co-conspirators.

Pierce dropped a notebook onto one particularly dilapidated music stand and – with the gravitas of conducting the London Philharmonic – gestured for silence. The chatter continued unabated. Hmmm. Whenever _Jeff_ did that move, everyone stopped talking. He tried again. Nothing.

"Hey!" he shouted over the din. Annie Kim was the only one to turn toward him. She sat perched primly on a filing cabinet, legs crossed and fingernails tapping impatiently on the metal.

"Hey! When I do this..." Pierce violently snapped all five fingers together again "...you all shut up!"

Nada.

Annie Kim rolled her eyes and turned back to the group. "Morons," she intoned and mimicked the _silence_ command. Instantly, the chatter ceased.

Pierce looked aghast but shook it off. "Good morning, friends! How nice to see your smiling faces..."

"Let's move this along," Annie Kim interrupted, arms crossed. " _Some_ of us actually have _important_ things to do today."

Joey moved to put an arm around her shoulders. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew, the study group isn't around. Don't touch me."

"Method acting!" Pierce gave Joey a fatherly pat on the back. "Much encouraged."

"Try it again, and I'll scratch your face off," she retorted.

"You know, you should consider acting as a full-time profession," Pierce suggested amiably to her. "You're much more likable when you're not being yourself."

"Pfft. And we're wasting our time manipulating your friends because _you_ _ARE_ likeable? Not that I mind emotionally torturing any of them. Obviously. We're all here because they're the worst..."

Gary raised his hand tentatively. "Not me. Shirley is my good friend. I must say again how uncomfortable I am with this whole..."

"Ughhh!"

"Go back to Finland!"

"Me either," the random black guy chimed in. "I literally have no idea who any of them or any of you are."

"And you don't have to," Chang called from a hidden spot in the corner. Everyone jumped. "Your role is _literally_ to be a 'random black guy' and annoy the hell out of Troy, Troy the Wonder Boy."

"Do you _really_ not recognize how offensive that is?" Random Black Guy asked. "No one? I'll have you know I'm a professor emeritus at Harvard University and a lauded..."

Pierce dismissed him with a wave. "I found you under the bleachers."

"Collecting fungi samples for my ongoing Nobel Prize-nominated study on...!"

"Great, then I'll take my $1,000 back," Pierce beckoned with his fingers. The man looked at Pierce's extended hand briefly and shifted in his chair. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Explain this to me, Hawthorne," Annie Kim said, getting back to scolding Pierce. "You _actually_ think creating _fake_ scenarios that will upset your friends _purely_ so you can swoop in as the compassionate hero – thereby _manipulating_ them into asking you to rejoin their kindergarten circle time – makes you _likeable_?"

"Yes!" Pierce turned to the rest of the group. "See, she gets it. Be like her."

"My. God."

"And it's working!" Pierce turned to his notebook. "Thanks to some impressive performances yesterday, Annie and Jeff are both back on Team Pierce. Asian Annie and White Abed – you are, as the kids say, relationship goals."

Joey leaned in for a hug. Annie Kim kicked him in the groin. All the men in the room winced.

"Well, on stage anyway," Pierce added, turning back to the notes. "Chang – not an entirely underwhelming performance yesterday."

" _Cooool_. Just like my wife used to say!"

"And Rich, especially, come on. A little heavy handed but really, next-level stuff."

Rich smiled and shrugged. "I lead an improv group on the weekends."

"Of course you do. Now, we should be all set for our next run in. Britta will be on campus in..." he checked his watch "...about 10 minutes."

Page gave a thumbs up.

"Remember," he said, leaning toward her with a glint in his eye. "You're really aiming for her self-worth. Take it home, lesbo."

* * *

"Forgive me, Annie, for I have sinned."

Annie startled and bumped her head on her open locker door. She closed the door just enough to reveal Jeff standing on the other side. He was leaning his back casually against the row of lockers, wearing a dashing smile and that blue button-up shirt she loved so much. He crinkled his eyes at her playfully. She glared.

Jerking his head toward the locker door, Jeff said, "Open the thing, you're not supposed to see me."

Annie rolled her eyes and fully opened the locker door again, blocking him from view.

"I'll start from the top. Forgive me, Annie, for..."

"What do you want, Jeff. "

"Oof, you'd get kicked out of the clergy so fast."

"The only confessional I've ever been to is Yom Kippur. And you don't have to hide in a coffin to do it."

"No, you just have to bow down to a piece of paper on a stick."

Annie glowered at him around the edge of the locker door. "Rude."

" _But true_."

Annie ducked out of sight again and huffed.

"Ahem." Jeff cleared his throat from the other side of her door. When she didn't respond, he coaxed in a whisper, "Now you say, 'Yes, my child...'"

"I don't have time for this," Annie protested, digging around in her locker. "I have to get to my Aerodynamics of Female Wrestling class."

Jeff's blood literally stopped pumping at the image of Annie in a female wrestling class. He popped out from behind the door and circled around to her other side.

"What."

She stripped off her baggy sweatshirt to reveal a skintight bodysuit, pulled her hair up in a messy bun, snapped a sweatband around her head, and stuffed a TI-89 calculator into her bag.

She caught Jeff giving her a shocked once-over. "It's a math credit," she explained flatly.

" _It is_? Are there still spots open?"

Annie shut her locker and turned to leave.

"Annie, _wait_ , I had a whole thing!"

"I don't care about your _thing_ , Jeff," she called, rushing down the hallway. Hearing the double entendre as soon as the words left her mouth, she screeched to a halt and looked coyly over her shoulder to see if he noticed.

That impish grin implied that he had, yes, definitely, noticed.

Annie tilted her chin up indifferently and stormed off.

"Oh, come on," he called after her. "What can I do?"

* * *

"You made brownies again?" Britta shrieked as she caught up with Shirley in the quad. "It's too much. But really, never stop."

"Even Jeff liked them! And I thought he hated my baking."

"Oh, forget Jeff." Britta waved a hand dismissively. "He's just jealous that you have a skill. Keep doing what you love, Shirley. You're lucky to have an identity like that."

Shirley opened the door of the social sciences building and let Britta pass through first. "You have an identity! You're an environmental and social justice warrior. That's very commendable."

"Yeah sure, what have I gone to war for recently? I should be taking to the streets over the Keystone XL Pipeline. Chaining myself naked to a streetlamp to protest sex trafficking!"

"Oh, my word." Shirley took a half-step off to the side.

"Instead, I'm driving to _college_ in a Land Rover my _daddy_ bought me, wearing a _leather_ jacket that I split between two credit cards, and stuffing my face with decadent brownies. Some identity. I'm the worst."

"Don't blame the brownies."

Britta stopped short and grabbed Shirley's arm. "Oh my God. She _is_ a lesbian!"

Halfway down the hallway was Page, pressing some lithe brunette with a lopsided haircut up against the water fountain. They were going at each other like rabid squirrels.

"She turned me down flat and now she's locking lips with skinny Rosie O'Donnell?"

"But Britta," Shirley responded confused, "you're not a lesbian."

Her voice deepened and she suddenly looked doubtful. "…right?"

Britta didn't pick up on the scornful change of tone. "How does that matter? The point is I _could_ be – she doesn't know!"

Page's eye wandered over to Britta's and she pulled away from the tongue-wrestling match, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. She walked closer to Britta and Shirley, fidgeting with her hat.

"Britta!" Page did a good job of sounding embarrassed. "Hi!"

"Hi…" Britta's eyes had never been narrower.

"Um, how are you?" Page asked, wringing her hands together uncomfortably.

"I've been better, liar."

"Excuse me?"

Britta unraveled fast. "What, I wasn't good enough for you? You joined Pierce's little study group so you could rub it in my face? Or did he pick you out just to piss me off because… I am in NO way that… predictable."

"Rub what in your face?"

Britta let out an exasperated huff and waved her arms toward the girltoy down the hall. " _Hello! This_. Isle of Lesbos!"

"Wow," Page held up her hands and widened her eyes. "OK. You clearly have some of your own issues to figure out…"

"Did you know I'd be walking to class this way and stage a little _run in_? What's _wrong_ with you?"

"Britta, my preferences have nothing to do with your class schedule. And the fact that you can concoct such an insane conspiracy theory really speaks to your lack of self-confidence…"

Britta rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I don't care about people's preferences."

Abed appeared next to Shirley, munching on a Let's popcorn snack bag. "What's going on?"

Shirley dug into the bag as well. "Well," she began, always happy to dish. "Last year, Britta made friends with this lesbian girl, Page, because she thought being friends with a lesbian made her edgy…"

"All I need is the 'last week on' version, Shirley. Not a blow by blow of the episode."

"Shush. So Britta and Page went to the Valentine's Day dance together and _kissed_ in front of everyone. You know, to show people progressive they were."

"Naturally."

" _But_ it turned out Page _wasn't_ a lesbian after all! And she was only hanging out with Britta because she thought _Britta_ was a lesbian and that made _Page_ edgy."

Abed nodded. "But now, Page IS a lesbian."

Shirley narrowed one eye and flung another piece of popcorn in her mouth, studying the scene unfolding in front of her. " _Mmmhm_. Britta's pissed. And it's _juicy_. _Mm mm!_ I've missed my soaps."

She pointed toward the two women, redirecting Abed back toward the action.

Page was getting rather fire-y. "You sooo care! When I turned you down last year, you basically collapsed into a puddle."

"You _embarrassed_ me! People are always mocking me, making me feel less! But you did it _publicly_."

"Oh please," Page snorted. "I turned you down for a FAKE relationship. So what, I don't deserve a real one?"

Britta opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"The worst part," Page sneered. " _You're_ _not a lesbian_. And you don't _really_ care that I am. You're just jealous that I _know myself_ and you don't."

In what felt to him like slow motion, Abed blinked and...

Britta threw her arms out to the sides and twirled in a circle seven times. The air around her turned to haze.

"I don't need to know myself," she boomed. "I'm a certified _PSYCH MAJOR!!_ "

Metal Bracelets of Submission clasped onto Britta's forearms. Her jeans, jacket, and boots were replaced with red, white, and blue Amazonian battle armor. A golden tiara wrapped around her forehead.

_All I need to know is you._

Britta's words went unspoken, resounding only inside their minds.

Students continued to pass the foursome in the crowded hallway, but as if behind a curtain… muted, dim, distant.

Page faced Britta down. She wore more of a gymnastics unitard than actual battle armor. A rope lasso trailed down from her hip past red knee-high boots. A prominent shield attached to one wrist. And a snarky smile adorned her face.

Page: _Wow, we're onto the mind-reading portion of the crazy_. _OK, what do you know about me?_

Shirley glanced unfazed between the two wonderless women.

Abed dug deeper into his bag of popcorn.

Britta: _You think I'm a fraud_.

Page: _Perceptive_.

Britta: _I've only taken Psych 101 and even I know_ you're _the fraud_. _You want to be unique but you're desperate to fit in. You pretend to be progressive but really you're a judgmental shrew._

Page beat the lasso against her shield and a defensive blast of anger shot toward Britta. A heavy sword appeared in Britta's right hand and she slashed through the anger before it reached her.

Both women stumbled.

Page: _Here's my hot take. You're every suburban white girl ever. You moved to New York, backpacked around Europe, spent two seconds in Africa… made friends with ME… because you thought_ other people _would think you were cool._

"How do you even know I did those things?" Britta asked out loud.

"What things?" Shirley questioned from behind her. "You fools have just been glaring at each other for five minutes."

Page: _You never_ had _to struggle, so you glorify those who do. You_ create _struggle for yourself in the name of selflessness. But it's only for appearances._

Britta scowled. A cold wind began to whirl around her head.

Page: _You're kind, but you're only out for you. You search for meaning, but you're superficial._

The wind whipped into a torrent.

Page: _You would do anything to make a name for yourself because you think you're worthless._

A jet of pain gust toward Page. She blocked it with her shield.

Page: _You seek validation from others because you can't find it within yourself._

A stronger blast of pain jettisoned toward Page. She blocked it again.

Page: _But it's a pathetic farce, just like every other posh daddy's girl out there._

And again.

Page: _You don't really want to fight for others. You want someone to fight for you. You don't want to dye your hair and face down the law in the name of civil disobedience. You want a husband and a dog and a white picket fence._

And again.

Page: _You base your whole identity on wanting to be a hero. But you're not._

Britta was trembling with rage and loathing. Whether it was loathing of herself or Page, she wasn't sure.

"You don't know me," she said out loud.

"You don't know yourself," Page retorted. "Haven't you been listening? That's the problem. You try so hard to help others fix their problems… But what about _your_ problem, Britta? When will you be your true self? Define your purpose?"

Page flicked her whip and a shockwave of sorrow crashed into Britta. Hair flying, she strained to hold her ground as the onslaught of emotion blew past her with hurricane-force winds.

Memory after repressed memory blasted into her conscious with every gale…

_Her birthday party. 11 years old. The tail of a dinosaur costume disappearing around a doorway. Her mother's chastising voice, "Pull yourself together, Britta. Strong women don't cry."_

_Her first homecoming dance. 14 years old. Kyle's hands in the dark utility closet. Her pulse pounding. "It's OK, Britta. This is what good girls do."_

_Her beat-up Volkswagen Beetle blasting Radiohead in the driveway. 16 years old. Embarking on a crusade of justice for the underserved, the overlooked, and the brutalized. Her father's simple, "You'll fail, Britta." Her mother's incredulous, "Successful people don't drop out of high school! You're ruining your life!" Her brother's taunting, "Send me a postcard from whatever bridge you end up living under."_

_Her hands shaking on the canister. 19 years old. The world-trade rally taking a turn. She was here to protest, not riot. "Throw it, Britta! Are you with us or not?" The tear gas blasting her before she could bail._

_Her nose ring jingling as she runs down the courthouse hallway. 25 years old. A rescued monkey sinking its claws into her shoulder. One An-Her-Chist's scream, "Britta, just stop!"_

_You're lethal to your own happiness._

_You’d rather keep it real than be likable._

_You're the AT &T of people._

_You're human tennis elbow._

_You're a pizza burn on the roof of the world’s mouth._

_You're the opposite of Batman._

_You're like the fun vampire. Except you don't suck blood. You just suck._

_Oh, Britta's in this?_

_Ughhh everyone wants you to shut up!_

In one swift motion, Britta snapped her forearms together in an X-shape in front of her face. The shockwave of sorrow still pummeled her, but she seemed to no longer fight it. Instead, it strengthened her. She raised her eyes up to Page and scowled beneath determined brows.

"My life hasn't been what you probably think it has," Britta said. Her voice was quiet, yet it somehow echoed through the hallway anyway. "We all have our struggles. But I don't need you or anyone defining _me_."

Page rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you're the worst."

"I'm _not_ the worst." Britta's lip twitched in the corner. "I'm the best!"

And with a wild roar, a blast of energy shot from the metal cuffs on her forearms. The shockwave of sorrow reversed, slamming into Page and sending her flying. She crashed with a clatter into the lockers and slid to the floor.

Britta stood powerful over her, legs shoulder width apart, fists clenched at her sides, armor gleaming.

"Maybe I don't know exactly who I am. But I know who I want to be. I want to be a good friend. A moral person. A vessel for good. So yeah, I have no idea where I'm going to be tomorrow. But I accept the fact that tomorrow will come. And I'm going to rise to meet it."

She extended a hand to her crumpled opponent. With a hesitant smile, Page accepted it and pulled back up to standing.

"Whoa, whoa, what's going on here?" Pierce asked concerned, striding up as if he had just stumbled upon the scene completely by accident.

Page and Britta – back in their regular clothes – were holding hands in the middle of the hallway as students chattered past them. This was not the scene he expected.

"I heard yelling," Pierce continued, trying to stoke what was supposed to be a fire.

"Oh no…" he glanced dramatically between Page's fake girlfriend and Britta. "Was she trying to…? Page! I've told you to get over this. Britta doesn't deserve your gloating…"

Britta rolled her eyes but smiled appreciatively. "It's OK, Pierce. Page can think whatever she wants. Doesn't bother me in the slightest."

She turned to Page. "I'm happy for you, girl. I'm glad you found yourself."

"Thank you," Page said sincerely. "You too."

Turning to walk away, Page shot Pierce a derisive glance. "I'm out," she muttered as she brushed past him. He did a double take.

"That's really big of you, Britta," Shirley cooed.

"One could even say, _wonderful_ ," Abed chimed in.

Pierce gave Britta a fatherly pat on the back. "I'm proud of you."

She looked skeptical.

"Really, I am. No matter how small an act of kindness or generosity or simple positivity you put out into the world, it will make a difference."

The skepticism faded and Britta punched him affectionately in the arm. "Thank you, Pierce. That's really nice. And so true. I don't need her to validate me. Or you. Or anybody. I'm not everything I hoped I'd be. But I've still got time to get there. And that's good enough for me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rather extended 4-month break that some would call "strategically building anticipation" and others would call "writer's block," I'm happy to welcome you back to a new chapter of GAW! Here, you'll find a light-hearted reprieve with Jeff trying to do good guy things, Chang - to the surprise of no one - embracing villainy, cardigans coming magically undone, and the beginning of the end for the Bizarros.
> 
> Thank you, fellow human beings, for coming back to continue the adventure with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jeff loves Annie. That’s different than understanding Annie. But he loves her with all of his heart and all of his crotch and all of his brain; he loves Annie." - Dan Harmon

** Still the Third Day of School **

Annie's stomach grumbled in time with her wristwatch.

Thirteen more minutes of lunch period. Maybe she could just sneak into the cafeteria and get some chicken fingers to go? Not worth it. Jeff would definitely be there. And running into him again right now was not a risk she was willing to take. If there was any place on this campus that she could successfully avoid him, it would be between stacks of fantasy books in the far corner of the library.

A whirring sound - like a tiny, underwhelming engine revving up - interrupted her musing. And a remote control car rattled around the corner of the bookcase. In the driver's seat was a stuffed kangaroo. It bumped into her ankle and came to a stop.

"Aww, who do you belong to?" She stooped to lift the little kangaroo from its seat. It seemed to wink at her with sparkly button eyes as she plucked a pink cloth heart from its pouch. _You're my wallabae_ , the heart read in white stitching. Annie breathed a little laugh and poked the kangaroo's bead of a nose with one finger. "Boop!"

"Hi, Annie!"

"Eep!" Annie threw the demon doll back down to the bowels of hell and leapt away. It landed with a cushioned thump on the carpet.

"Oof! Oh no!" The kangaroo exclaimed in a voice that - despite the falsetto it was using - had no business being between stacks of fantasy books in the far corner of the library.

"Ughhh _Jeff_!" Annie grabbed the traitorous kangaroo and stuffed it back into the remote control car. "Take your stupid doll back."

"Who's Jeff?" The falsetto voice was nothing if not persistent. "I'm a cute kangaroo plushie, and I'm here to be friends with your _other_ kangaroo plushie!"

"It's not a plushie," she snapped, like nothing could be more obvious or offensive. "It's a stuffy. Because it's a _stuffed_ animal. See how that works?"

Annie shoved the car, sending it spinning back down the aisle. "And I don't need two kangaroos."

Jeff stuck out his foot from behind the end case to block the little thing from careening all the way across the room. His head popped out a second later. "Don't they travel in packs or something?"

"How can I make it any clearer that I just want you to leave me alone?" Annie demanded.

"Oh, that's abundantly clear. And I would happily leave you alone. _Unfortunately_ ," Jeff stepped forward and picked up the stuffy. "This was all the kangaroo's idea. And when she's decided something, it's very difficult to change her mind."

He held the doll at arm's length, bouncing it this way and that like a marionette. "Please forgive Jeff! He was just looking out for you!"

"What did you even do?" Annie fumed. "Leave school? _Skip classes_? Drive to a store to buy an, admittedly, very cute stuffed animal... and think that would magically make everything all better?"

"Two stores. I didn't actually know where to buy a stuffed animal. But... No, definitely not."

She seemed both disgusted and astounded. "You really don't care about anyone but yourself, do you?"

"I _just_ said I went to two stores for you."

"No. You went to two stores so you could buy your way out of feeling guilty."

" _No_. I _went_ to two stores so you would stop being _pissed_ about something _stupid_."

Swallowing the vile expletives that she clearly wanted to hurl in Jeff's face, Annie spun away and disappeared around the book stacks.

Bitter, defeated, and - worst of all - guilty as hell, Jeff let his arm drop listlessly. And a button in the stuffy's ear pressed against his leg.

"Hey!" the kangaroo trilled in a voice actually befitting a child's toy. "It's Kangaroo Kay, here to save the day! Hurray!" 

Jeff chucked it at the floor. "Aaaa, stuff it." 

* * *

"Here's your traitor, boss." Chang shoved Page through the doorway of the spare room club house. 

"Get your grimy hands off me, you crazy imp!" Page grimaced and brushed the crazy imp grime off her sleeves. "Ew, what is this?"

Chang sucked on his fingers. "The curdled blood of my enemies."

"It's trash hot dogs," Pierce answered. "Quit harassing people, Chang. Page did her job working Britta up. I didn't expect Britta to come to her own resolution without my help but..."

Pierce's lips twisted into an affectionate smile. "...that one does always seem to be more intuitive than we give her credit for."

He blinked and erased the embarrassingly tender visage as quickly as it had appeared. "If Page wants to leave, she can leave."

"You going soft, old man?" Chang lumbered aggressively toward Pierce. But - being a good 11 inches shorter than his intended victim - efforts at such intimidation tactics were rather fruitless.

"I bet you could just flick him out of the way," Annie Kim droned from her typical perch on the filing cabinet, plucking a pill off her sweater and flicking it casually onto the floor. "Shoo, fly."

"Pah! You can't get rid of me! I'm _everywhere_." Chang raved, waving his arms around much more dramatically than was necessary. "And the next person to bail on Mission Chang Down Terror will _feel my wrath_! Who's it gonna be? Huh? Random Black Guy?"

"That's it." Random Black Guy headed for the door. "This isn't worth the thousand bucks."

"I might sneak out too," Rich chimed in. "I'm leading my Nana's nursing home in group tai chi. Those ladies really still have so much strength and virality in them. It's invigorating."

"If they're leaving, I would like to leave as well." Gary raised one hand in the air as if asking for permission.

Chang brandished some splintered drum sticks menacingly. "Everybody SIT down or I'll gut you like a fish, wear your entrails as a scarf, and use your kidneys for mittens!"

"Whoa!"

"I don't think that was trash hot dogs..."

"He's a student-faculty liaison manager?"

"Can it!" Pierce bellowed. And for once, it was enough to silence the group. "You know what, Chang? I've had just about enough of you. You wonder why we never _once_ actually considered letting you in the study group? Because you're not right. Your head. It's messed up."

"Oh. Really." Chang narrowed his eyes. "Well, at least I'm not some racist old coot that lets his so-called friends walk all over him."

Random Black Guy wobbled one hand back and forth. "Eh."

Asian Annie and White Abed snickered.

"Talk to me like that again, student," Chang warned.

"Not a student," Random Black Guy shrugged. "A professor emeritus at Harvard."

" _Oooo_ and do you know who _I_ am? _Huh_?"

Annie Kim coolly studied her finger nail polish. "A stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking vent dweller."

"OK..." Chang backed toward the door, bobbing his head and rubbing his tongue against his teeth. "I see. You know what? I hope the study group _does_ take you back, Pierce. I hope they take _all_ of you. Because you're all _just_ as bad as them. Screw you! I'm outta here."

Page cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted after him, "Then you owe us some kidney mittens!"

* * *

Twilight began to creep upon the campus of Greendale Community College.

Students scurried across the grounds. Some were heading for the dorms. (Rumor had it, Magnitude had finally scored his own place, and the Thirsty Thursday keggers promised to be poppin'.) Some were escaping to what was - at least as they swore up and down to anyone who asked - a _normal_ life outside of this place. And some, namely Jeff Winger, were eagerly awaiting their study group's last scheduled get together of the week.

Jeff had even pulled a distinctively atypical move and shown up to the library early. He leaned against the front columns of the building, notebook tucked under one arm, phone nowhere in sight, eyes searching the brick walkway for a particularly frustrating brunette.

Chasing some skirt around for days on end and getting met with nothing but rebukes was not how he preferred to spend a week. But yesterday, when Pierce said to find that weird, unbearable delight that's actual happiness, it wasn't just some skirt that leapt to mind in a breakthrough epiphany. It was a very particular - currently very disgruntled - skirt. And if groveling at the hem of said skirt is what it took to make it (and him) happy and flouncy again, that's exactly what he was going to do. _That_ was the Winger Guarantee.

Jeff's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. A text from Chang. He really needed to change his number.

A frigid wind breezed past him up the exterior steps, completely ignoring his presence.

"Annie!" Jeff stuffed the phone back in his pocket, text unread, and rushed after her. Grabbing the library door handle just before she could, he held it open with a little bow. "Milady..."

The frustrating brunette gave him a withering side eye, raised her nose even higher in the air, and bustled on through. By the time he strolled into the study room, she was already pulling out her chair at the group table.

"Sooo this is a fun game and all, but when are you going to start liking me again?" 

Annie didn't look at him. "When you grow up." 

"You're the one giving me the silent treatment." 

She considered, then huffed, then plopped her backpack down and starting yanking out her books.

Jeff stared her down. "I'm sorry, OK?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Your apologies mean nothing, Jeff. They're just things you say to get out of uncomfortable situations." 

"That's kind of the point of apologies." 

"Do you even get why I'm upset with you? Do you even realize that you did anything wrong?" 

"Yes to that first thing, and, no not at all." 

"Khuh!" 

Jeff raised both arms in surrender. "Hey, I _tried_ to stay out of this whole you and Abed situation."

"Oh yes, you tried very hard," Annie scoffed. "Because it's such a _state secret_ that you never try very hard at anything."

"I'm trying very hard to get you to forgive me."

Pause. 

"Look," Jeff continued, "I know you don't like it, but cards on the table? I'm never going to stop trying to protect you. And it's not because I think you're young or naive..." 

"Of course it is!" Annie's eyes flashed fire. "Little innocent Annie needs saving. Well I'm _not_ innocent, Jeff. And I _don't_ need saving. " 

"Damn right. You're fully badass all on your own." 

Annie crossed her arms. "Then why did you stick your nose in my business AGAIN?" 

"Because... you know..." 

She arched both eyebrows. The disapproving eye contact was like laser beams boring into his resolve.

It was Jeff's turn to roll his eyes, mostly as an excuse to look away. "You're really going to make me say it?"

Annie waited, the picture of annoyed discontent. But a flushed chest betrayed the broadening chinks in her armor. 

Jeff exhaled. "Because I _care_ about you. OK?" 

Her gaze fluttered.

"Too much, probably." Jeff shifted, uncomfortable with the honest direction this conversation was taking. Epiphanies are one thing in your head. They're another when they actually come out of your mouth.

"We kissed, and I ignored it," he went on. "And if memory serves, you didn't like that too much. And now, exactly the same situation is happening with Abed. So yeah, I told him to do what I DIDN'T do, and make sure you were OK. And no, I don't see anything wrong with that." 

Annie's scowl softened a bit, the laser beams cooled, and she shuffled one shoe on the carpet. "It's not _exactly_ the same situation." 

Jeff sensed a definite change in tone and flashed an impish grin. "Admit it," he said, stepping forward to nudge Annie's arm playfully. "That was a good apology."

"Not really."

He prodded her elbow. "I'm trying to do good guy things."

She shrugged him off, but in a rather half-hearted sort of way.

He poked her lightly in the ribs. "Don't be mad."

She twisted out of reach, trying - and failing - to smother a smile.

"I want my Annie back."

Encouraged by her utter failure to look even remotely annoyed at that turn of phrase, Jeff broke into a broad smile and teasingly tickled her sides. "Forgive me yet?"

"Jeeeeeff!" Annie cackled.

"What about now?"

"Ah!" Squealing, she swatted his hands and scampered around the table.

"What about now?"

He caught up to her just as she stopped short and twirled around, crushing into his chest.

"Sorry," Jeff laughed. He stepped back to give her some space, but her fists gripped his shirt.

He froze.

"Sorry." She released her grip, keenly watching the fabric slip out of her grasp. And instead of moving away, she carefully splayed her fingers out across his chest. 

"I'm still mad at you," she murmured, staring at her hands.

There was that special side smile that seemed to only ever be just for her. 

"Are you though?" 

Annie looked up at Jeff from beneath heavy lashes. Then in a blur, she was on her toes, lips pressed blisteringly into his.

And there it was. Weird, unbearable delight.

Without giving a single thought to how terrible of an idea this probably was, Jeff clutched Annie's hips like a life raft and pulled her in tight. The response was a sharp exhale between his lips and frantic hands tugging on his shirt. He tripped forward until the back of her legs slammed into the study room table. Britta's chair tumbled out of the way.

Jeff wasn't aware of a single thing other than warm bursts of breath on his cheek and the taste of bubble gum on his tongue, so he wasn't sure exactly how Annie got up on the table. But she was definitely there now - legs hiked up around his waist, kisses desperately deep, and fingers fumbling with the buttons of her cardigan. 

His hand was halfway up one of those legs when the cardigan dropped onto the table. New plan. Tugging at a tank top spaghetti strap, he buried his face in her neck. And immediately decided he was never, ever going to come back up.

He sensed Annie's moan as he trailed across her skin... Annie's nails as they dug into his shoulder blades... Annie's hair as her head fell back... Abed's voice as he said...

"Hello!"

They sprang away from each other like an electric jolt. Jeff spun in a circle and paced to the other side of the room, trying to control his breathing. And other things. Annie nearly collapsed onto the floor and struggled to stuff her arms back into the right sweater holes.

Abed strolled nonchalantly toward his chair.

"And that's how you do CPR!" Jeff riffed.

"Yes!" Annie gesticulated wildly. "Needed to know that for..."

"...that quiz..."

"...for my anatomy. Class! My anatomy class."

"That's a normal situation."

"Totally normal!"

They took their seats and stared intently at nothing. Abed twirled a pen between his fingers and looked around the room, quite undisturbed. Jeff hazarded a glance at Annie. Her chest was heaving. She seemed to be attempting to laser a hole in the table with her eyes.

"Abed..."

The rest of the study group filed in, and Jeff shut up, slinking low in his chair and pulling out his phone.

"Jeff and Annie made up," Abed announced as everyone took their seats.

"Made UP!" Annie shrieked. "Made _up."_

Abed pointed his pen at her confused. "That's what I said."

"Oh."

Jeff tuned out the din of everyone's enthusiasm. What had just happened? Annie had started that... that... whatever it was. She had definitely started that. Not him... Right? Yeah, no, she had definitely started that.

His eyes drifted left from the blank cell phone screen. Annie was sitting prim and proper, hands crossed over the school books that rested in front of her, eyes feigning interest in the others' conversation. But the flush emanating up from the hem of her jostled cardigan... the strands of sweaty hair clinging to the back of her neck...

He should be freaked out. He should feel gross and guilty and cradle-robbing-y. But he heard Pierce's voice in his hears...

_"You keep waiting for the dust to settle on the life you lost and the internal battles you wage.  
_ _And then you realize, this is it. The dust is your life going on._  
 _Why not actually live it? If happy comes along_  
 _– that weird, unbearable delight that's actual happiness –_  
 _you have to grab it while you can."_

Annie had taken her own sweater off. That was her. That was definitely her. Not him... Right? Yeah, no, that was definitely her. 

Jeff realized he had been staring at that patch of clingy hair for far too long. He flicked his eyes back to the phone that wasn't even turned on. But he couldn't keep them from wandering her way again. And this time, she was looking at him too... eyes questioning, fingers distractedly tracing her lips.

Wow. That God. Damn. Pierce.

"That _God damn_ PIERCE!" Britta's rage sucked Jeff like a vacuum out of his reverie.

Shirley rocked back and forth in her chair. "It's so _vile_."

The entire group was babbling over each other. And Chang - who looked at this point a bit less student-faculty liaison manager from Greendale and a bit more slighted Newman from _Seinfeld_ \- slammed his hand on the study table. "He's got you in the palm of his fat little haaaand. You're all sheep for the slaughtah I tell you! The _slaughtahhh_!"

"What are you talking about?" Jeff asked. "When did you even get here?"

"Pierce has been manipulating you _all week_! Class schedules from the admin office? Check. Secret listening device in the study room? CHECK. A replacement for each of you to _get you all riiiiiiled up_? Check MATE. He knows who will be where, when, what, how, and why."

Troy punched his right fist into his left palm. "Let's get him!"

"Oh please," Jeff scoffed. "You're going to believe _Chang_ over Pierce? Actually, that is a tough choice. But seriously... a secret listening device? Really?"

"It wouldn't be the first time Pierce has messed with us," Britta argued.

"Oh, and it _would_ be the first time _Chang_ has messed with us?" The group looked suspiciously from Jeff back to Chang. "Guys, come on. Chang may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot, but don't let that fool you. He really is an idiot."

Chang smirked. Without a word, he sauntered around the table, coming to a stop between Annie and Shirley. They both scooched their chairs away from him. He held one finger up for dramatic effect and then plummeted with a full-body thud onto the floor, inch-worming along, hand under the cabinets.

"Ahhh-haaaaaa!" Chang blasted back up to standing, triumphantly holding the gnawed-off pencil Pierce had tossed there the first day of school. No one spoke.

Jeff crossed his arms defiantly. "Aaaand?"

Chang clicked the top of the eraser, and the pencil crackled to life.

_"It wouldn't be the first time Pierce has messed with us._

_"Oh, and it_ would _be the first time_ Chang _has messed with us?"_

Shirley and Annie gasped in unison.

The group exploded again.

" _Viiiiile_!" Shirley rocked back and forth.

"Let's get him," Abed nodded.

Jeff set his jaw. That God damn Pierce.

"Alright!" he shouted over the din. He darted his eyes this way and that across the table top, trying to come up with a plan. One glance at Annie - who now looked more disgusted with herself than embarrassed - told him all he needed to know. "Chang, where is he?"

Chang's features contorted into maniacal glee. "Pop Pop."

Jeff ground his teeth and looked around at the six expectant pairs of eyes.

"Let's get him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time in _The Graphic Art of War_... Our heroes and their Bizarros come to blows in a battle of comic book proportions.


End file.
